


Enough

by JollyJameson



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyJameson/pseuds/JollyJameson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Riddler has enough, but breaking ties with the Light is nothing he can do on his own. YJ verse, based on a prompt fill by Higgystar on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

The corners lay in deep shadows, cast by the dim, errie light of the computer screens. The machines hummed gently as they processed the data given to them. Not a single living soul was in sight; or was there?

A loud beep sounded, followed by several messages popping up on the desktops. Long strings of numbers and letters stopped running. Something - someone - stirred. Anyone who were to observe the scene would assure you that this someone had not been there before, but there he was, sitting in a chair in front of the biggest screen. A thin, tall man with sharp facial features, partly hidden by green-tinted glasses and brown sideburns. 

Edward Nigma, better known as the Riddler, groaned and brought one hand up to rub at the spot between his eyes, just over the nose. He grimaced and looked down at his arms. Cables still connected him to the system, ready to drag him back into the endless flow of data he had just returned from. It was tempting to go back, if he was being honest. 

Marks spread around the spots where the machinery was hooked into his body, marks looking like a mixture of burns and scrapes, but with clean edges, like they had been drawn with a ruler. As he watched, small droplets of blood found their way to the surface of his skin. Even without the wounds, it didn't look healthy - rough and papery, pale on top of it, a sign of a severe lack of sunlight. 

Edward's scowl deepened and he started detaching the cables. He had about half an hour, forty-five minutes if he was lucky. Then, one side would find him. In worst case scenario, it would be the Light, the reason he was in this mess - after all, human bodies were not made to be turned into data and back into organic material regularly and they most certainly couldn't stand that kind of strain for as long as the Light had made him do it.   
By all means, breaking ties with the organization had been dangerous, suicidal even. But so would staying there have been and there was at least the tiniest sliver of hope now that it wouldn't be the organization that found him first.

The Riddler stood and had to steady himself on a desk as his world began spinning. He gritted his teeth.  _Weak_. He had never been physically strong, he knew, but months and years of constantly forcing his body out of its natural state had made it worse. There was no recovery for him, either, not while he was alone in his attempts to escape the Light. 

But the chase would end tonight. He was sick of running and hiding and checking around every corner, of flinching at every sound and not being able to do as much as go buy groceries. So he had left his riddle and he had no doubt that both parties out for him would find it. The only question was who would be quicker to decipher it and get to the hide out first. 

His world stopped spinning and Edward made his way over to another set of screens. They were dark, deactivated. At the first sign of movement his cameras picked up, they would turn on though, showing him just who was trying to reach him. His usual set of traps was a lot less big than usual, less elaborate, it had less finesse. Trying to stay under the radar had been nearly impossible, he couldn't have ruined it by turning his hide out into a major construction side.

He sat down in another chair, placed both elbows on the desk in front of him and rested his head in his hands. His fingers brushed through greasy, thin hair that had come to pale just like his skin. Washed out, almost. A grim, humourless smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Even if it wasn't the Light who got him first - he had hardly given the other side, the one he would prefer to find him if he were to be honest, any reasons to take it easy on him. The missions he went on for the Light had been more than just thefts of data - he had cracked codes, hacked into systems, destroyed programs, spied, done enough damage to seriously affect the heros in their work in the real world. He had no guarantee that the Bat wouldn't just beat him into a bloody pulp and drag him to Belle Reeve or Arkham, both places where the Light just had to collect and kill him. He knew too much and now that he had proven disloyal, he had become too much of a threat to be kept alive. 

He jumped, torn out of his musings by the whirring sound of computers coming out of their hibernation state. The screens flickered to life. Edward leaned closer to them in a sort of nervous excitement. No one was in sight. His brow furrowed; something clearly had set the motion sensors off, but-

He flinched back instinctively when something dark filled one of the screens, followed by a shattering sound and the picture cutting to static. It didn't take long for the rest of the cameras to follow.

"Shit," the Riddler muttered. This wasn't the Bat's style. And that meant the Light was here.

His survival instinct told him to get up and out of here, quick, while he still could. Standing up, however, his body protested with a wave of nausea. He stumbled, nearly fell. Black spots appeared in his vision, accompanied by dizziness. He bit his lower lip, feeling the teeth on both sides of his gap cut into the dry, chipped skin. Somehow, he actually managed to force his vision back into focus and staggered a few steps before he heard glass breaking. 

In a last, desperate attempt to live through this, he tried to throw himself to the left. Something heavy, though luckily not overly sharp, jabbed him between the shoulder blades from behind, then someone kicked him behind the knees, hard. Somewhere between yelping and falling forward to the floor, he noted that the first blow had likely been aimed to knock him out or at least severly disorient him and that his movement was the only reason it had missed and failed its purpose.

Now was not the time for thinking too much though - he saw his desk a few meters away and a black clad leg entering his field of vision. He kicked out as hard as he could, the effort sending his vision spinning, then he rolled over and under the relative safety of his desk. It was a sturdy kind of desk, with wooden plates surrounding three sides between the legs, a pretty good hiding place, assuming his assailant hadn't noticed him crawling under it. 

Edward pressed his back against the wood of the left side and drew his bony knees up to his chest. Desperation clawed its way through his chest - he was struggling to catch his breath after less than two minutes of fight. He couldn't get out, not without getting past his attacker. The attacker who would find him any moment now. He didn't need his genius mind to realize that he didn't stand a chance.

A dull thump shook the desk over his head when someone landed on it. Edward braced himself, forcing his facial expression into a grimace which he hoped looked dignified and expected the worst. A masked face with shaggy, dark hair entered his line of vision upside down, batons crossed to fend off a possible attack, one Edward - to his dismay - hadn't even thought about. 

"Nightwing," the Riddler gasped out, mentally cursing the half panicked, half relieved and fully pathetic tone of his voice only a second later.

"Hiya there," the former Robin greeted with a smirk and sommersaulted off the desk, crouched before Edward for a moment and then grabbed the villain by the front of his shirt. He stood, dragging Riddler out from under the desk and lifting him off the ground with a grunt. It wasn't that big a task considering how much weight he had lost, really.

Edward's thoughts raced through his brilliant mind. He hadn't considered it possible that Nightwing would be the one to confront him, especially not so fast. He didn't have a clock, but it couldn't have been longer than twenty minutes tops. Either way, this development might not be so bad at all - assuming he could get Nightwing to listen, his chances of not ending up imprisoned somewhere, ready for the Light to kill, were pretty good. Hopefully.

The vigilante shook him, once, to snap his attention back to the present. 

"Well then, talk," the masked man ordered, "What does the Light want?"

"My head on a platter," the Riddler replied dryly. He watched as Nightwing's brow furrowed; so the heroes' side had yet to get the news, it seemed. 

"Care to elaborate on that one?"

"I broke my ties with them. Now they want me dead. Really, bird-brain, I expected you to figure that out yourself."

The left corner of Nightwing's mouth twitched upward. The Riddler watched him roll his eyes under his domino mask, then Nightwing dropped him onto the desk unceremoniously, grabbed hold of his wrist with one hand and reached for a pair of handcuffs with the other one. 

"Wait!"

Nightwing hesitated, hand clenching around the Riddler's wrist hard enough for his fingers to dig into the other man's flesh. Edward forced himself not to flinch at the sensation.

"I know we have our... differences," the vigilante grimaced at that, although the Riddler could see the badly masked amusement on his features, "but if you would use that brain of yours to just think for a moment, you should come to the conclusion that dragging me to Arkham or Belle Reeve is not the way to go this time!"

His voice had sped up as his anger - and fear, though he wouldn't admit that - increased. With every passing second the Light got a bit closer to them, to him, and he prefered living, thank you very much.

Nightwing hesitated mid-movement, watching Edward closely. The Riddler could almost see the gears turning behind that domino mask; in any other situation he would have found it enjoyable, greatly so, but right now it was just unnerving. 

"They'd get you killed off."

"You don't say, bird-brain."

A smirk tugged  on Nightwing's lips suddenly and Edward felt his stomach drop. The vigilante wouldn't take him to Arkham anyway, would he? 

"You are asking for help? From the good guys?"

The Riddler glared at him, but a faint pink tinge had spread from the back of his nose over his cheeks to his ears. He twisted his wrist free from the vigilante's grip and rubbed it.

"So it seems, bird-brat. Obviously I must be quite desperate to even consider that," he shot back and glared at the other man. The effect might have been intimidating coming from a more menacing person. One that wasn't injured, half-starved and  _blushing_. 

Nightwing grinned and Edward felt torn between the urge to punch him in the face and just curling up in a ball of wounded pride. The hero relieved him from the decision by tapping his chin thoughtfully and speaking again.

"And just how do you think we could help you? It's not like I can take you to the Batcave, can I?"

Edward rose a brow: "And why is that?"

Nightwing stared at him for almost ten seconds like he had completely lost his marbles before gesturing to his mask and suit.

"Secret identities? We generally try to, you know, keep them secret?"

Edward blew air through the gap between his teeth in a sound of Tch and rolled his eyes. 

"Oh please, I figured those out ages ago. They were one of the easiest riddles I ever encountered. Nice try though - Grayson."

Nightwing stared at him, speechless. Edward smirked widely. After almost a full minute of silence though, it faded into an almost nervous frown. Edward cleared his throat and it seemed to snap Nightwing out of it.

"You know and you haven't told anyone," he stated flatly.

Edward replied with what he hoped came across as a nonchalant shrug: "I didn't have any reason to."

The vigilante sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, messing it up further. He opened his mouth to reply, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of an explosion. Glass shattered as windows broke.

Nightwing reacted first, grabbing the Riddler by the front of his jacket and pulling them both into the temporary safety of the desk.

Edward's head bumped into the wood painfully, but for once he didn't complain. The hero yanked out the handcuffs and secured the villain's left wrist to the desk's foot. The Riddler stared at him: "What are you doing?!"

"Making sure that if this is a trap, you won't get away."

"And what if they overpower you?!"   
His voice had risen in pitch, making him sound more like a fifth-grader on helium than a criminal genius. He couldn't say he cared at the moment.

"Then we go down together," Nightwing grinned, tapped the trapped Riddler on the nose once and pushed himself out of their hiding place. The sounds of a scuffle arose while the Riddler yanked on his bound wrist. There was no way Nightwing could actually win, surely the Light would have sent their best assassins after him. No one could say just how many had been set on him, either, and he was sitting in such a position that he couldn't stick his head out from under the desk and check for himself. 

The wood surrounding Edward shook when a body slammed into the table from the left. The Riddler flinched, but the sounds of a struggle had ceased. A moment later, Nightwing's face came into view. He was grinning and - he didn't seem to be injured. No bruises or cuts, not even a tear in his suit. Edward's left brow rose at that, but he didn't ask aloud as Nightwing unsnapped the cuff around the desk's leg, used it to secure Edward's hands behind his back and hauled him to his feet.

"It's not like those are needed," the Riddler said finally, tugging on his bound hands experimentally. The Bat-Clan didn't use normal handcuffs and unlike the ones the GCP used,  _these_  handcuffs actually proved a challenge to Edward. He could break free, if he was given enough time, but he didn't have that kind of time now; and making Nightwing angry didn't seem like a good idea anyway, not in his current predicament.

"Just making sure," Nightwing was still grinning, almost smirking now. He took hold of Edward's arm, then hesitated: "We still need to figure out somewhere to take you. Darn."

Silence resumed and Edward used it to briefly survey the room. He counted two unconscious men, one on the desk and one thrown into a few boxes of computer equipment. A not exactly small part of him, his pride most likely, was angry at this. That's who the Light sends to assassinate him? Only two men? And by the looks of it,  _common thugs_?!

It took a lot of effort from his genius brain to re-focus on Nightwing and the current question.

"I have information, you know," he said as casually as he could, "About the Light. Their strategies. Plans."

The hero looked at him, no longer grinning and now Edward almost wished he would go back to that. 

"I could probably beat those out of you."

The hero had deadpanned while saying that and the Riddler tensed, knowing that a beating from Nightwing was nothing to be taken lightly. His mind raced in search for more reasons to keep him alive - and preferably in an uninjured state. 

"I'm the best when it comes to entering cyberspace," he said quickly, nearly stumbling over the words, "I could help you. Not many can even log into cyberspace, let alone operate in it. Read the language. I can though."

"You gave us enough examples to know that," the other man said and there was a sour tone to his voice. While Edward still tried to find another thing to say in his favor, the vigilante heaved a sigh. Then, he grinned again, though the Riddler could have sworn it looked a bit more forced now: "Fine. I'll take you to the Batcave, since disguising our identities failed with you, apparently. Can't guarantee what Batman's gonna say though. If you try anything, I'll drag you to Belle Reeve before you can ask one of your riddles."

Edward pouted, slightly, but couldn't keep his smile of relief hidden for long. Nightwing nodded at him.

"No thanks, uh?," the vigilante shrugged, "Didn't expect any anyway."

He tugged on Edward's arm to get him walking and together they headed for the exit.

"I'm not going to run, you know. You can uncuff me."

"Not gonna happen."

"...Brat." 


End file.
